‘We have chocolate or lemon,’ says Maggie, sliding the second perfect-looking iced cake down onto the table.

‘What do you mean “or”?’ Matt says, placing three plates down.

‘You’re right, Matt. Would you like both, Clem?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Well, off you go,’ says Maggie.

Even with my leg in plaster, Maggie still makes me reach forward, awkwardly, so I can cut my own slices of cake. She does, however, help slightly by holding the plate so cake doesn’t end up on the floor. I hack a large slice from each cake and lift them across. The icing is melting and dripping down the sides. I catch some on my finger and suck it off.

‘Yum!’

Matt cuts two slices that are even larger than mine. He tries both cakes at once, which I find a bit odd, but after a large mouthful he declares it a winning combination.

‘Your dad said you’ll be leaving soon,’ says Maggie.

‘Yeah,’ I tell her. I don’t like talking about it. I haven’t seen the house since the day I fell off the roof, and I’m still not sure how it will work being back there.

‘Must be the season for change because Matt’s going home soon, too.’

I watch Matt to see how he feels about it. I can’t read his expression.

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I ask him.

‘Yeah. I think so.’

I concentrate on demolishing the lemon cake first. I don’t know how to tell Matt I’ll miss him, but I will.

‘I’m staying at your high school, though, so we’ll get to see each other,’ he adds.

I smile, but then remember I have a mouthful of cake and probably have crumbs all through my teeth. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. So far I haven’t been expelled!’

‘I’m glad.’

Maggie slides back her chair and says, ‘Well, I’ll miss you both!’

She hurries off to the kitchen and I throw Matt a worried look. ‘Is she crying?’ I whisper.

‘No,’ says Maggie from the kitchen. ‘I’m not crying. I’m making tea. Anyone want some?’

Matt laughs and then whispers back, ‘I think she is.’

Then he adds, ‘I’m sorry about pretending we weren’t friends that day Nat was over. And I’m sorry you fell off the roof.’

‘Yeah. I’m holding you personally responsible,’ I say seriously.

He frowns and flicks his hair from his face.

‘The lawsuit’s in the mail,’ I say lightly.

‘Sarcasm. You’ve made a good recovery.’

‘And next time I tell you a secret, don’t go blabbing to Nat. Okay?’

‘In my defence, I didn’t know it was a secret.’

I start laughing. ‘Yeah, maybe that’s where I went wrong.’

‘I’ve retired from rooftopping,’ he says.

‘Me too. I might just climb trees instead.’

‘If you want some company …’